For a Demon's Amusement
by 6655321
Summary: Dumbledore accidently lets lose a mischievous demon who has plans for Harry and Draco. HPDM pairing. R&R.. please?
1. One Can Never Have Enough Socks

This story idea kinda creeped up on me. I don't know what I was on at the time, but when you're in a summer math class and you're pretty fuckin' bored, well.. imaginations are a fickle thing. And, yes, this is a Harry/Draco pairing. ^^ It takes place in the middle of sixth year, and there will be no Voldie in this fic. This is being written purely for my amusement, and the Dark Lord does not amuse me.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own it.  
  
Chapter One : One Can Never Have Enough Socks  
  
It was a very rare sight indeed to see the Headmaster wandering the corridors in between classes, brandishing his wand and seeming very irate. "Where is that blasted demon?" he was muttering to himself, using the end of his wand to investigate the floor under a rug, only to scowl darkly when he had obviously not found what he was looking for. Suddenly, it seemed he was struck by a rather feasible idea. His eyes lit up and a triumphant smile graced the ancient man's features as he rummaged through the pockets of his robes, ignoring curious stares from the students, and on occasion, a sympathetic glance from a staff member. But just as quickly as the twinkle returned to Albus Dumbledore's eyes, it disappeared once more, replaced by another uncharacteristic scowl. "My bloody map!" the old man cursed, startling quite a few students. Neville Longbottom looked about ready to soil his robes as he scuttled off.  
  
A soft titter was heard from the high ceiling. Alarmed, Dumbledore pointed his wand straight up at a dark, inky, shapeless blob. "Rifyr!" the old man bellowed in the now-empty corridor. "First my sock drawer, now my map?!"  
  
An alarmed Professor McGonagall stuck her head out of the Transfiguration classroom, fixing a stern stare on the nutty Headmaster. "Albus, what's this about reefer? You know the children can hear you!"  
  
Dumbledore didn't move from his position. "Not reefer, Minerva. Rifyr." All he got in return was a blank stare, at which he frowned at. "She's loose again."  
  
"Oh, good heavens," the Transfiguration professor breathed as realization struck her quite unpleasantly. "Not again, Albus." The stern old witch glanced up at the ceiling where, rather slowly, a hooded something took shape, clinging to the ceiling with merely the fingertips of one hand and two booted feet. The figure's other hand grasped what they both recognized as Dumbledore's treasured map. The shadowed face merely leered down at them, only a small smirk visible from under the hood.  
  
Dumbledore held up a hand to the Transfiguration professor as she stepped out of her classroom and whipped out her wand. "No, Minerva. She'll take my map with her."  
  
"Who cares about the map?" she snapped at the old man. "If we don't do something about her--"  
  
"She incinerated my sock drawer thirteen years ago. I won't let her get away with my map!"  
  
Professor McGonagall stared at the Headmaster as if he'd gone completely cuckoo, which was probably quite possible. Finally, she threw her hands up in resign. "You and your socks, Albus! Fine! But I'm not helping you this time!" and with that, she stormed into her classroom, slamming the door shut behind her.  
  
"Still sore about your warm, woolly socks, Bumblebee?"  
  
"The woolliest there ever were, Rifyr." Seeming to regain his sanity, the Headmaster pocketed his wand and brushed off his robes, still staring threateningly at the demon on the ceiling.  
  
-------  
  
The whole class of Gryffindors and Slytherins started in their seats as the heavy door was slammed shut upon their professor's second entrance, muttering heatedly about socks. She seemed to ignore her expectant class as she took her place behind the teacher's desk. Finally, she fixed them all with a rather unnerving stare. She cleared her throat. "Now, today.."  
  
"BLAST YOU, RIFYR!" came a thundering bellow from outside the classroom. It was followed by unfamiliar chuckles which seemed to come from right outside the door.  
  
"Peeves?" Hermione questioned from beside Harry, although quite unsure. Peeves had never dared to test the Headmaster's patience before.  
  
"No, no, not Peeves." McGonagall was glaring quite hard at the door. She had pressed her lips together so tightly, they were now nothing but a thin line below her nose (which was complete with flared nostrils). "In any case--"  
  
"YOU OWE ME A COMPLETE SET OF SOCKS, YOU BLOODY MENACE!"  
  
The whole class fell into silence. Every pair of eyes was on the professor (who glared at the surface of her desk). Unfortunately, no one noticed something misty and inky black seep into the classroom through the cracks in the door. Finally, Draco Malfoy's drawling voice cut the silence. "Dumbledore's finally going mad, isn't he, Professor McGonagall?"  
  
"Shut your trap, Malfoy," Harry Potter shot back on impulse. He was already having a bad day: sleeping in late, missing breakfast, then being a whole two minutes late for Potions, having twenty points deducted from Gryffindor since it had been the second time that very week the same exact thing happened. He was thankful that the start of the weekend was only two classes away.  
  
"Don't start your bickering, boys," the professor said before the blonde Slytherin could retort or Ron could utter a "bloody bastard" or something of the type. She was massaging her temples tiredly. "And, no, Mr. Malfoy, the Headmaster is not going mad. Or at least I don't think so. Years and years ago, he came in possession of a shadow demon in an enchanted jar -- please do not ask me why -- and it seems as if she's loose. Again."  
  
Hermione gasped, while Malfoy raised his brows. They were obviously the only two who knew exactly what a shadow demon was capable of. Well, other than Seamus, who said aloud thoughtfully, "I came across one of those once." He pulled at a lock of sandy brown hair. "It took me ages to grow my hair back out. And I had second-degree burns on my scalp." He shuddered visibly at the memory.  
  
The rest of the class stared at him, wide-eyed, some of them sheilding their heads with their hands, as if the pesky demon was going to pop out of no where and start a campfire in their hair.  
  
"Well, okay, but.. what's all this about socks?" Malfoy asked, quite to Harry's annoyance, although he was maybe just a tad curious. Maybe.  
  
This earned a roll of the eyes from the older witch, as well as an explaination. "Thirteen years ago, the same thing happened with this shadow demon -- she escaped when Professor Dumbledore accidently knocked her jar over -- and apparently, she had set fire to his sock drawer to amuse herself."  
  
"And that's why the old bloke's got his panties in a twist?" Malfoy asked disbelievingly.  
  
Harry, however, thought back to the room that used to contain the mirror of Erised. He remembered asking the Headmaster what he saw when he looked into the enchanted mirror. And he also remembered, quite well, what Dumbledore's answer had been:  
  
``I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks. One can never have enough socks. Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books.``  
  
Harry snorted into his hand, unsucessfully masking his amusement. As he tried hard to control himself and revert his facial features to a more somber expression, he glanced at Malfoy, who was grinning at him quite weirdly. But it disappeared all too quick to be replaced by the usual sneer, making Harry think that it was just his sleep-depraved imagination.  
  
"The old fool."  
  
"Shut up, Malfoy!"  
  
"Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter! That's quite enough!"  
  
"Harry Potter," came a soft whisper, its source no where to be found. Alarmed, some of the students hopped onto others, while another good number fell out of their chairs. Most of them were thinking that a whisper that came from no where could mean Voldemort. But the whisper didn't sound familiar to Harry, so he merely gazed blankly about the classroom.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
There came a quiet chortle. "Draco Malfoy."  
  
Harry's eyes snapped to said person, who was paling remarkably at the mention of his name. Although, surprisingly, the Slytherin was able to keep a completely inscrutable expression.  
  
"Rifyr! Out!" snapped the professor, pointing her wand at the numerous shadows about the room. "Out, out, out! I couldn't care less of Albus's map, and I'll cast the containing spell at every damn shadow in this classroom if you don't leave! Go and bother someone else!"  
  
"Alright, okay. I'm leaving, you old coot. As for you two boys, watch your backsides." There was more laughter, as if what was said was supposed to be funny. "This -will- be fun."  
  
Harry watched Malfoy for his reaction, wondering if he was as clueless as Harry felt. Apparently, the Slytherin was, because he was giving Harry the same exact look.  
  
*TBC*  
  
End Chapter One.  
  
Yes, the shadow demon is kinda based off me. What can I say? What demon wouldn't have fun at Hogwarts with those two sexy boys? X3 ..So, anyway, what do you think? If people don't like this story and I get zero reviews (which is absolutely possible seeing as I suck), I'll end up deleting it and pretending I never wrote such a monstrosity. And please don't complain about how Dumbledore is OOC. ..I know he kind of is, but I've always wanted to see him get just a little angry and freak out, and I thought.. if nothing else can do it, why not make up something that can? ..I'm done rambling now. 


	2. The Harry Potter Impostor

Thanks to the few who have reviewed so far, I really appreciate it. They were short.. but sweet, so I guess I decided to go on with this story to see where it would take me. I realized that the first chapter was really -really- short, so I'm gonna try to make up for it. Wish me luck. x_x;  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine.  
  
Chapter 02 : The Harry Potter Impostor  
  
"AAAAAAAGH!"  
  
Harry, Ron, and Hermione all jumped at the hideously loud scream that had suddenly exploded into the entrance hall. They froze, petrified (though not -literally-), as hurried footsteps scrambled down the staircase, and they looked on in confusion as Malfoy came running down, looking behind him the whole way. It seemed, then, that the blonde suddenly realized that while running in blatant horror, it was best to look where one was going. He had that thought a moment too late, however, because just as he turned, he ran smack into none other than Harry, and with a muffled 'Oof', both of the boys went down.  
  
-------  
  
_A few minutes beforehand on the second floor_  
  
Draco boredly made his way through the empty, darkened corridor, heading towards the dungeons. He stifled a yawn with his hand and rubbed tiredly at his eyes. 'Sleep,' he thought wistfully, getting a delicious mental image of his bed in his private dormitory. Ah, the joys of being a prefect. He no longer had to put up with the loud snores of his former roommates -- namely Crabbe and Goyle.  
  
He was jolted from his thoughts when something grabbed the back of his robes and yanked him into an empty classroom. Panicking, Draco freed himself and turned to meet the offender, trying not to look -too- scared out of his boxers. He twisted his expression into a sneer as he saw who it was.  
  
"-Potter-? What the hell do -you- want?" He crossed his arms over his chest, lifting his chin slightly. "Looking to start something with me? I assure you that you're hardly worth my time." He then quirked a brow as the raven-haired boy took a step towards him.  
  
"Malfoy." Draco blinked. Well, this was unexpected; Potter's voice wasn't tainted with contempt like it usually was. It was uttered in a near whisper. A simple statement. It was almost.. seductive.  
  
"What's wrong with you?" Blink, blink. "Wh-what are you doing?" the poor Slytherin backed into the wall as Harry Potter got closer and closer, finally stopping when their noses were but an inch apart. "Get away from me, you--" Draco stopped right there, however, because the hand he had wanted to use to shove the offending boy away was intercepted by a cold, firm grip. Draco stared down at his fingers interlaced with his enemy's, stunned, then returned his gaze to Potter's shadowed eyes. 'What the hell is going on?'  
  
"Mm, Malfoy.." The fingers of Potter's other hand, which felt as though they had been left to sit in a muggle freezer, brushed against the curve of the blonde's neck, making him shiver.  
  
"Don't touch me." Despite his soft command to Potter, he himself didn't move an inch. He only stared, transfixed by the shadows cast over the other boy's gaze, wishing he could read the expression those clear emeralds usually portrayed.  
  
"Are you sure you don't want me to?" Their noses were nearly touching now, and Draco found himself unable to move. He also found that he lacked a response to Potter's question. He had -never- expected to be in this type of situation with his complete opposite. And, well, it wasn't completely.. disagreeable.  
  
Draco saw his nemesis break into a wide grin, and heard the snicker being emitted from those delicious lips that slowly began to.. ..change?  
  
Yes. -Change-. The visible features of Potter's face became more feminine -- the curve of the jaw became softer, the lips fuller -- and he had even shrunk a few inches! Draco looked on in horror as the Harry Potter fake grew long dark hair and then proceeded to adopt a pallor that seemed to sheen even in the darkness. The Slytherin began to sputter incoherently, snatching his hand back from the impostor's grip.  
  
The figure leaned forward, still grinning widely. The lips parted, and breath was inhaled; and then came a single, terrifying, awful, nightmare causing, panty-soiling induced word: "Boo."  
  
And that's about the point that Draco ran screaming from the classroom, down the steps into the entrance hall, and into -- then onto -- none other than the real Harry Potter himself.  
  
-------  
  
Harry blinked up at the high ceiling -- which was a complete blur considering that his glasses had been knocked off. He was sprawled on the ground under the weight of the other boy, trying to remember if he had ever been in such close contact like this with Malfoy. Although it was a little uncomfortable, he was overcome with a wave of warm fuzzies. He barely remembered to scowl when Draco had lifted wide gray eyes to settle on the disgruntled -- and slightly daydreaming -- Gryffindor.  
  
Shock after shock, Malfoy scrambled off of Harry letting out a strangled "eugghh!" while at the same time bringing his arm up to seemingly shield himself. But, obviously, that hadn't been the shock. What -had- been is that Malfoy's usually pale face was now colored with a deep -- and obvious -- blush. Harry felt his own cheeks radiate off a little heat of their own, although he was pretty sure he wasn't as obvious as the Slytherin.  
  
"You!-- I!-- what--" Malfoy went on like this while Ron and Hermione stared and Harry sat up, retrieving his glasses and placing them on the bridge of his nose.  
  
Harry pushed himself to his feet, and Malfoy seeming to remember himself did the same, silencing his incoherent babblings.  
  
"What was -that- about, Malfoy?" Ron asked, unable to mask his glee which was probably due to the Slytherin's discomfort. "Come across a mirror?"  
  
"Shut it, Weasel." Just like a proper Malfoy, he had seemed to regain his cool and was now straightening out his robes, albeit shakily.  
  
Harry ignored his friends and the Slytherin, and stared carefully up the staircase, possibly expecting an ugly troll in a pretty pink tutu to come frolicking down the steps. He then cast a questioning glance at Malfoy, who was currently glaring at Ron. "Really, Malfoy. What scared you so bad?"  
  
"Bloody demon," Malfoy explained curtly before walking off hardly giving Harry a second glance; although he was still sporting a rather becoming blush. The three smirked after his retreating back.  
  
"It might not be so bad having a shadow demon around after all," Ron stated as they continued on to their cozy Gryffindor common room -- although the redhead was practically skipping. "The thing could light my head on fire, and I wouldn't mind as long as she scared the pants off of Malfoy."  
  
"I wonder what she could've done to scare him so bad," Hermione said thoughtfully, still grinning slightly from the whole ordeal. "I'll have to read up on demons."  
  
At this, Ron rolled his eyes and Harry half-smiled. Typical Hermione.  
  
-------  
  
'What the hell?' Draco plopped onto his bed, scowling down at the plush green carpet. 'How damning embarrassing! What does she think she's playing at?' He kicked off his shoes, and not bothering to change into his pajamas, collapsed onto his back, resting folded arms behind his head. 'Stupid Potter!'  
  
Malfoy reflected over this thought, then decided grudgingly that it wasn't the Gryffindor's fault at all. He suddenly didn't blame the Headmaster for going ballistic because of that damnable shadow demon.  
  
-------  
  
Somewhere in the midst of all of this, Headmaster Dumbledore was staring disdainfully at the scorched ends of his robes and his poor, sooty feet, knowing that somewhere else in the midst of all of this, Rifyr was laughing her hex-deserving head off.  
  
-------  
  
'Why Potter?'  
  
It really wasn't the fact that it had been a boy that the demon decided to impersonate -- he had decided that he fancied both girls -and- boys a long time ago. It was just that it had been -Harry Potter-, The-Boy-Who-yadda-yadda-dadda'ed, Scarhead, Goody-Goody-Gryffindor, the boy who had everything: the fame, the money, the good friends, and yes, Draco had to admit to himself, even the damned -looks-.  
  
'She's just trying to get my boxers in a twist,' Draco decided, frowning. He closed his eyes, not really noticing that he was replaying the whole thing in his mind's eye, although there were a few changes. First off, it wasn't just a cheap Harry Potter impersonation. It was -him-, vivid green eyes and all. Muttered sweet nothings, warm hands, impossibly soft skin, warm breath against Draco's cheek, a lithe and completely sexy body frame, tender kissable bitable lips, a -very- nice trouser packa--  
  
To his utter horror, Draco realized the error of his thoughts. To further that utter horror, he had been -smiling- to himself about it. And to further his furthered utter horror, he found himself, of all things, -aroused-!  
  
'You are -sick-, Draco Malfoy,' he scolded himself, starting determinedly to the bathroom intent on a cold shower. 'Absolutely -twisted-.'  
  
Before he laid himself down to sleep under the thick, warm covers, Draco came to the conclusion that it was just his horny little hormones, and that the blasted demon had just put Potter into his head.  
  
-------  
  
"He ran right -into- you?" Seamus asked of Harry in awe, something like envy gleaming in his eyes. "And knocked you both over?"  
  
"Yeah," Harry replied with a grin. The whole thing had cheered him up considerably. "It was pretty funny actually."  
  
"Hah! Understatement of the century," Ron put in. He hadn't stopped smiling since the incident, or at least Harry didn't think he had. The heavily freckled boy always revelled in whatever sort of embarrassment and/or defeat the hateful Slytherin suffered from. Harry guessed that Ron's distaste for Malfoy surpassed even his own. ..No. He was absolutely sure of it.  
  
"I suppose he is somewhat of an arse," said Seamus, staring off into space. "But he's a -sexy- arse at least. Mm. -Very- sexy."  
  
Dean threw a pillow at him, Ron snorted, and Neville mumbled something intelligible in his sleep (although that's completely irrelevent). Harry, however, smiled inwardly. He couldn't help but agree. 'Seamus,' he decided, 'Has -very- good taste.'  
  
"Harry agrees with me, don'tcha, Harry?" Seamus was grinning at him, almost knowingly. "So did you, you know, sneak in a few touchy feelies?"  
  
Another pillow from Dean's general area, a scowl from Ron, and a "Did'n meen't blow'p d'school, 'fess'r Snape" from Neville followed by a frightened whimper (which also has nothing to do with Seamus's pervy question).  
  
"No way!" Harry answered, wrinkling his nose. Malfoy did indeed possess a great deal of finger-lickin'-good lusciousness, but he was an insufferable prat and generally, Harry couldn't stand him.  
  
"Sinful!" Seamus exclaimed while tossing a pillow back at Dean, who simply caught it. "I am appalled, Harry James Potter. Absolutely dismayed."  
  
Harry only grinned and snuggled further under his covers after setting his glasses on the bedside table. He almost regretted missing that chance. But just almost.  
  
*TBC*  
  
..End Chapter Two.  
  
I'm afraid that maybe this chapter is also too short. : \ Yes, no, maybe so?  
  
I'm kinda glad that I'm not going to get into all that bullshit about Harry and Draco denying their sexuality. I don't want the story to get too complex. ^_^- So.. is it getting any better? How about those reviews, hm? 


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